


For Centuries More.

by fearless_seas



Series: We Were Made of Sunshine and Gold [12]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage, Past Character Death, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearless_seas/pseuds/fearless_seas
Summary: “Do you want to get married?”





	For Centuries More.

**Author's Note:**

> It randomly came to me, and I decided to write it. French is my second language, lemme know if you want me change anything (translations at the bottom). This is one of my worst works to date, but enjoy nonetheless!

          “Do you want to get married?”

          Charles immediately drops his glass onto the tile of the kitchen and it shatters, splashing coffee over the floor and cabinets. “ _Merde_ ,” he curses silently under his breath and droplets are dripping slowly down his bare legs.

          Pierre immediately shoots up from his seat at the table and runs to grab the paper towels from the counter. “Are you okay?”, Charles is already bent on his knees gathering up the bits of broken ceramic into a pile. When he doesn’t answer, Pierre reaches across the distance and grabs for his hand, brings to his chest. His blue eyes are wide, open like doors just for him. So he softens when Pierre question him again, “ _Vas bien?_ ”

          Charles hesitates but then squeezes his hand in return in a small motion. He hadn't quite noticed how stunned he was by this. The hollow of his throat is tightened and when Pierre returns with the broom he says, “ _Oui_ , I am alright, don’t worry.”

          But they are unconvinced and nibble on their inner cheek nervously. He wipes the coffee out from the floor and the broken glass is slid into the trash can. “I didn’t mean now,” Pierre mutters silently but he can’t meet his eyes. It is something that he does when he is embarrassed. Charles has his second cup of coffee cradled in his palms and this time he took one of the disposable, plastic cups. He hadn’t realized that his hands were trembling until he sat down once again. “I mean in the _avenir_ ,” and he eagerly wishes to talk because there is nothing left in his mug yet he is hasn’t stood up to take a shower yet. “One day,” his eyes are wells of hope then, as if only his words could clear the tension in between his brow, “Do you want to get married?”

          It sounds stupid saying it, but Charles had never thought of it. Things like marriage or… well, just marriage. He yearns to explain that he is almost twenty-one and he has things like the press knocking on his door asking questions about a possible Ferrari drive to worry about. But despite everything, since they were children, they’ve always made time for each other. He can sense the hurt in Pierre’s voice, so instead, he gulps and gets up with the table to shower. He feels guilty about it but he does it anyways. He hopes they forget about it. But he ponders it until the water runs cold over his back and his forehead is balanced against the wet tile:

_Will I ever get married?_

          Pierre doesn’t forget about it; which is odd. Usually, he is prone to forgetting things that weren’t important. They are still in his apartment in Monaco a week later when Pierre rolls to him on the bed and Charles can ambience the words weighing his tongue from miles away.

          “We’ve known each other for a long time,” he mumbles and it is rare because Pierre is holding his tongue now (something else he never does).

          Charles sighs and readies himself, he unloops his arm from the back of their neck. “ _Nombreuses années_ …”, he pretends to be falling asleep. Subtle headlights of oncoming cars are playing out on the shadows of the ceiling paint.

          “ _Ca_   _ne serait pas une surprise_ ,” Pierre’s voice sounds thick as though he is having trouble finding the right words. “If we got married, _a la fin_ ,” _in the end_ , it sounds almost as a death wish, although, Charles would never disclose this out loud. “We have been together many years,” four years, almost five, he counts quickly in his head (although he never forgot it in the first place). He turns his head to him, his eyes glowing wide in the darkness like sapphires. _“Le veux-tu_ ”, his voice is a whisper, a short echo in the vast darkness around them.

          Charles hums but doesn’t say a word. He hears Pierre mumbling goodnight to the back of his neck as he pulls him closer by his stomach but he falsifies sleep and purses his eyes shut. Maybe he just doesn’t want to admit that he is frightened. Petrified of the future and beyond…

          “Should we have kids?”, it’s after Silverstone is over but he is still in England for a day longer. Pierre and himself are enjoying their last night together for almost two weeks (a long time). A movie is playing on the television and Charles has his legs lying parallel on his lap on the sheets. “ _Tu aimes_   _les enfants, tu es bon avec eux_ ,” Charles can only tighten his jaw and swallow thickly.

          But he doesn’t want to think about things like marriage and children. He ponders about racing, his career and, well obviously, Pierre. That last thing never seems to be off of his mind. Charles exhales and reaches for the remote, shuts off the tv and then kicks his feet onto the floor. “It’s late,” he says, “ _Je suis fatigue_.” He slips into bed but Pierre stays up after him, staring out of the window with a glassy expression as the stars fade into morning light above the both of them.

          “Where would you want to make our home?”

          This time Charles has had enough and he places his fork down before leaning across the table towards him. The bar lights are shining against his cheeks, brings out the depth of his high cheek bones and sharp jawline. “What is this?”, Charles blurts, his brows narrowing.

          Pierre stops his bite halfway to his mouth, “ _Quoi?_ ”

          “ _Ce!_ ”, Charles gestures around them. Pierre only appears mildly confused but obliges him and peers into his face. “ _Pourquoi tu poses ces questions?_ ”, and maybe it’s a low brewing anger he doesn’t usually have. It starts dangerously in his stomach and breaks to the surface eventually.

          “About what?”, Pierre shifts his gaze away nervously.

          “About this!”, Charles snaps, “About the future and marriage and kids…”

          Pierre knows this, that he has the tendency to talk too much. He stares down at his plate, “ _Desole_.” His voice is quiet and he doesn’t speak the rest of the night, nor does he eat. The walk back to the hotel room is muted as well. Charles doesn’t want to leave on summer break with an alteration between them both.

          He postulates on the edge of the bed and Pierre is shuffling around the room quietly, moving his things about to get ready for the plane flight he has to catch in the early morning. “ _Ecoute_ , Pierre,” he manages but they still don’t meet his eyes. Pierre settles a foot away from him and nervously rubbing his hands around in his lap. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m sorry,” Pierre scoots a little closer at this and his shoulders have visibly relaxed.

          “I’ve just been thinking,” his shoulder is touching his.

          Charles chuckles, “Obviously.”

          But Pierre doesn’t smile. He digs his toes into the carpet and narrows his stance. “ _Vous êtes très important pour moi, vous savez?_ ”, he mumbles and the space between them couldn’t appear any larger then now.

          “ _Oui, je sais._ ”

          He saunters to him then, his eyes have a shallow depth to them as though he is laying everything forth for him and him alone. “I only want to do everything that I can with you,” his fingers brush his on the top of the bed. A slow, small movement in a universe constructed for the both of them.

          Charles grabs for his hand, “We don’t have to get married do that.”

          His breath has a hitch to it, “I know.”

          “Then why is it on your mind?”

          “Jules,” he tenses, “He was with his girlfriend for a long time, they had plans and…” He swallows, “ _Rien de tout cela s'est passé._ ”

          “Can I tell you something?”

          Pierre gives him a funny look, an amused sort of countenance, “Have you ever had to ask me before?”

          “ _Non_ ,” but he chews on his inner lip, “I’m frightened about these things.”

          “ _Dieu_ , Charlot, _pourquoi?_ ”, his features have softened significantly.

          “Because I don’t want something to happen to you,” Charles finds that his nails have been fiddling with the edge of his pocket. “It is worse, if something were to happen to me…” the narrow of his throat closes and he clenches his teeth, “If I were to leave you…”

          The center of Pierre’s forehead arches, “That’s not going to happen.” It is silent for a moment and the stars out of the window feel too close, just a reach across the distance. “ _Rien ne nous arrivera_ ,” the azure of his eyes is so large, like a sea inviting him to wade among the waves. But it’s comfortable, this reticence and he has warmed to the universe around him. He rests his shoulder there, on Pierre’s shoulder and Charles can feel them press a kiss to the top of his hair. His hand is tugged into their lap, the pad of their thumb rubs over the top of his hand. It is little things, such as this, which in the end add to the larger picture. Skin-to-skin contact that fills a gravity of intimacy. It’s an occasion in which they both cannot describe what this attraction, this emotional bond, truly means to both of them.

          Then Charles suddenly recognizes something, “I never answered your question.”

          “Hm?”, Pierre hums in reply.

          He clutches his hand, “I would marry you.” Pierre stills, “In the future, if you asked me. _Je dirais oui_ ,” a faint, sleepy smile tugs at his lips.

          “ _Honnêtement?_ ”, Pierre knocks his skull against his but he is too excited as he jumps to his feet. His eyes are wide and frantic, “You would honestly marry me?”

          And he loves this, the way the shine as they speak of things that they love (because he can flatter himself that he is that thing). He shrugs, “ _Bien sûr_.” Pierre has a large grin on his face, one that shows his teeth as he straddles Charles, wrapping his arms around his neck and settling into his lap. His forehead depresses against his before he moves his head forward to kiss him. Charles manages to melt into it for a minute before Pierre rips away from him.

          “What sort of ring do you want?”, he inquires with a glimmer in his eye.

          “Pierre--”

          “Oh,” his cheeks flush warmly, “ _Desole_ , Charlot.”

          “No,” Charles brushes a finger underneath Pierre’s chin and brings his eyes towards his again, “I want to hear everything, continue talking to me.”

          And he does. He listens to everything. It’s one of the greater things in the world: to be understood. That is the thing, he could watch him for only a moment and find a thousand things that he loves about him. He’ll do it for a century and find a million things more. He doesn't desire him in bits and pieces, he requires the good and the bad of it all, every last atom of him. There isn't a thing more than he'd need.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is @pieregasly, I respond and read every single comment. So if you enjoyed it, and you read it, it really doesn't take that long. Thank you!
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Merde = Shit  
> Vas bien? = Alright?  
> Oui = Yes  
> Avenir = Future  
> Nombreuses années = Many years  
> Ce ne serait pas une surprise = It wouldn't be a surprise  
> A la fin = In the end  
> Le veux-tu = Do you want that?  
> Tu aimes les enfants, tu es bon avec eux = You love kids, you're god with them  
> Je suis fatigue = I am tired  
> Quoi? = What?  
> Ce! = This!  
> Pourquoi tu poses ces questions? = Why are you asking these questions?  
> Desole = Sorry  
> Ecoute = Listen  
> Vous êtes très important pour moi, vous savez? = You are very important to me, you know?  
> Oui, je connais = Yes, I know  
> Rien de tout cela s'est passé = None of it happened  
> Non = No  
> Dieu, Charlot, pourquoi? = God, Charlot, why?  
> Rien ne nous arrivera = Nothing will happen to us  
> Je dirais oui = I would say yes  
> Honnêtement? = Honestly?  
> Bien sûr = Of course


End file.
